


Tendrils

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Afraid of Monsters & Cry of Fear
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Frottage, Hallucinations, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm sorry if it sucks, Implied Sexual Fantasies, Inexperienced Characters, LISTEN OK, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, i was half asleep when i wrote this, let these boys be happy, mentions of drug addiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: "Sometimes, like now, the glow rolls off you in waves. Gentle tendrils of golden light sweeping off your skin. It turns black when it comes in contact with me. We know why, of course. We’ve established that it’s because of the shadows that float off of me.If I weren’t so focused on trying to write what I’m seeing right now, I’d be amusing myself. I don’t know if I’ve written about that before, or told you about it. I know you remember the first time I saw you glowing, the way that I chuckled to myself and traced my fingers over your cheek in little patterns.I still do that, sometimes, while you’re sleeping."David, recovering from his addiction but still experiencing 'issues', has taken to writing the things he sees and thinks down, at Simon's behest of course. Tonight is no different... Except that it is.And he definitely likes the turn this has taken.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Background for this fic:  
> David and Simon both experienced their games  
> They didn't know each other beforehand, as was suggested in canon (so slight AU i guess)  
> David is definitely the one who hit Simon with his car, but he doesn't remember doing it and the details are a little hazy to Simon.  
> They end up in rehab for their addictions together (Simon - Morphine, David - The pills) and for their injuries after David was admitted to a hospital with a severely broken leg from a freak accident involving a group of dirt bikers.  
> David still has to take the pills every once in a while to avoid quitting cold turkey and fucking himself up. They still make him see shit, but it's mostly pretty docile now.
> 
> Anyway yeah. Thanks for reading. Italics (outside of speech) are David writing in his journal in first person, everything else is third person. Other italics indicate a character speaking in a foreign language or placing emphasis on something, as per the usual in fics.

_The lights flicker slightly in this room._

_Well, I say lights, but I mean the lamp. The single lamp. The one next to the bed._

_It’s flickering, right now, but the overhead light flickers sometimes too._

_Right now, though, it’s just the lamp. It’s flickering and casting funny shaped shadows on the walls. A hand creeps across my vision, a dog wanders near the floor. The only place the shadows don’t touch is above you, around your head, over your whole body and past the edge of the bed where your feet almost hang off while you lay down._

_You already know why that is, though. It’s because you glow. You cast this dim light off of your whole body. It radiates through your clothes, through the blankets. Comes from somewhere below the skin. It’s beautiful, really, but I’ve said that already. Many times._

_Beautiful and mesmerising._

_Sometimes, like now, the glow rolls off you in waves. Gentle tendrils of golden light sweeping off your skin. It turns black when it comes in contact with me. We know why, of course. We’ve established that it’s because of the shadows that float off of me._

_If I weren’t so focused on trying to write what I’m seeing right now, I’d be amusing myself. I don’t know if I’ve written about that before, or told you about it. I know you remember the first time I saw you glowing, the way that I chuckled to myself and traced my fingers over your cheek in little patterns._

_I still do that, sometimes, while you’re sleeping._

_Wow, that sounds super creepy, doesn’t it? Especially out of context._

_Anyway, yeah. Sometimes I just sit here, or lay here next to you, and I trace patterns into your skin, watching them turn black and then fade back into that beautiful gold hue you have. Mesmerising, I tell you. Absolutely mesmerising._

_I do it the most right after I have a bad hallucination, actually. It helps me calm down._

_You’re a great canvas. You don’t twitch under my fingertips, like I would. You don’t move. You don’t wake up. Hell, you barely breathe. And that’s calming in it’s own way, really._

_God, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve laid here tracing the same pattern over and over until I can still see it staining you long after it fades._

There was a shift. David lifted the pen away from the page, warily watching the body next to him. When the other finally settled back down, he returned to his writing.

Or, at least, he tried to.

He was distracted by a soft groan from next to him. A cursory glance at the man showed he was still dozing peacefully. What was wrong, then?

Oh, well. It didn’t matter. Simon would be fine as long as he was still asleep and not crying. And, look, he was still asleep and he wasn’t crying. Nothing to worry about for now.

_The little noises you make in your sleep spark visions all on their own. Visions that aren’t quite so much hallucinations as they are fantasies. I realize that sounds wrong. I don’t care. You’ll likely never end up reading this particular entry. I’ll probably burn it or something._

_You know, you were right. You were right about this helping clear my head._

_Yeah, I definitely have to burn this one now. You’d let that comment go right to your head, wouldn’t you? Yeah, you would. You’d say you wouldn’t, but you would._

_God._

_You need to stop making those noises. Those little mewls and groans are starting to get to me._

_The shadows I always see rolling off of me are getting thicker. Your glow is turning a weird red orange color, sweeping off of you in rushing waves, touching the inky black extending from me. It’s strange. I can almost feel it._

_It’s almost comforting._

Another groan, this one different from the last few in a way David couldn’t place, made him pause, thigh muscles twitching in uncomfortable ways. Ways they normally only did when Simon or anyone else was brave enough to touch his legs. But Simon more so than anybody else.

He had no idea why Simon’s touch had so much more affect on him… Or, no, he did. He had plenty of ideas. But acknowledging them in reference to this was embarrassing. Too embarrassing, even in his own head, to bother with.

His thighs, of course, weren’t the only things that twitched. Something in between them did, as well. That was, in his opinion, even worse. He didn’t need that problem right now. He didn’t need to deal with it at the moment.

_I wonder, if I indulged in my fantasies, if your glow would turn into my shadows from the prolonged touching. Would it taint you forever? Or just until I’d pulled away from you for a sufficient amount of time?_

_Or would your glow make my shadows ebb away into a glow of their own? A sickly gold flowing from me seems in no way appropriate. I’m much more at home with my shadows and your brilliant gold._

_Right now it’s more red than it was a moment ago. Your cheeks are glowing especially brightly._

“D-david…”

_You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have said my name. Not like that. Not in a way that makes me warm and fuzzy in a less than safe way. Warm and fuzzy in a way that doesn’t denote comfort and drowsiness, but rather in a way that denotes a legitimate rise in temperature and an addling of the brain._

_Then again, my brain is always addled around you. You make me so…_

_No. I’m not getting into that. This isn’t supposed to be a journal in the traditional sense, and yet here I am. About to spill my secrets._

_Still. Those little noises are getting to me. And you_ **_whimpering_ ** _my name didn’t help in the slightest._

“David…” It’s louder this time. Pleading.

And not in the way that would usually encourage him to wake the other man up.

His eyes rove over the dimly glowing body beside him, noting the glow increasing in some places, like his cheeks, his chest, and, to his amusement and arousal both, his crotch. He also noted, his own cheeks heating a bit, that there was a notable tent under the blankets in that area.

They weren’t together, Simon and David. They were barely even friends. But they’d roomed together in the hospital when they were trying to kick their addictions and learn how to walk again. They’d only moved into David’s apartment together, shared the bed, because Simon had to live with somebody and the only person he could call, he wasn’t currently speaking to.

David couldn’t blame him.

He’d seen the texts leading up to Simon’s decision to drop contact with her. He’d poured his heart out to the woman and she’d crushed it. Simon had no other choices but him, in that case.

He _had_ to live with somebody. He couldn’t take care of himself until his legs recovered, which might possibly never happen. So David had tentatively suggested it, sparing Simon the embarrassment of having to ask.

And now they shared David’s bed, in David’s bedroom, in David’s apartment, because it was easier. David didn’t have the money for another bed. And with Simon’s frequent night terrors that sometimes made him hurt himself, he couldn’t afford to let Simon sleep in a different room. Either he wouldn’t hear him or he wouldn’t be able to get to him - his own leg tended to bother him.

There wasn’t an exciting story behind either of their injuries, but David’s was simple - he’d been out on a walk, trying to avoid being around the pills he was addicted to, and long story short he’d jumped out of the way of a dirt biker, only to trip and have his left leg repeatedly run over by all of the dirt biker’s buddies.

They’d been courteous enough to take him to the hospital, though, so there was that.

Simon made another noise, shifting, glow brightening significantly. David was pulled back into the present.

God, Simon was so cute.

“David, p-please…”

How could he say no?

He pushed the covers out of the way, very well aware that Simon was asleep. His journal lay forgotten as he turned onto his side, pen rolling away. Some more adjusting, and he found himself directly above the object of his interest.

His fingers deftly unbuttoned and unzipped Simon’s pants, pushed down his boxers, and carefully extracted his half-hard member. He stroked it slowly, gently, worked it into a full erection.

It was kind of fascinating, really, watching it get hard and listening to the minute changes in Simon’s breathing as he did.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he had an idea.

It flicked out again, this time against the leaking head of Simon’s erection. The other twitched with a gasp. A quiet exclamation of David’s name. He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to avoid it getting him too overly excited. Patience was a virtue, after all, and he was actively trying to be a better person than he used to be.

He closed his lips over the tip, suckling gently and sweeping his tongue over the slit. His hand continued working the shaft slowly, keeping the man beside (beneath?) him stimulated while he tested out what worked and what didn’t with his mouth and tongue.

He grew impatient quickly, taking more into his mouth. He was still careful, despite the fact that he just wanted to throw himself wholeheartedly into the task and get Simon off as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure he wanted the other to wake up, after all.

But if he did, oh well.

The head hit the back of his throat when he went down this time. Thank God his gag reflex was pretty much dead. Months of dry pills tended to do that.

Pretty much the only “good” thing he’d gotten out of his addiction, really, aside from this recurring hallucination of Simon glowing and of course Simon himself. He was good. And they’d only met because of rehab.

Thin fingers threaded in his hair, tugging lightly. “David… H-holy shit…”

So much for him not waking up. David would have sighed, but he found he actually somewhat liked the idea. This way Simon could watch. Could know it happened. Know that he’d gotten him off.

He continued to bob his head, sucking here and there and making a bit of a mess with all the saliva beginning to pool in his mouth. He swallowed it, throat constricting around the head of Simon’s cock at the same time. He had to shudder at the satisfied groan and the gentle tug on his hair that it caused.

Okay, that was good, then. Swallowing around him was good.

“David… _Fan…_ You’re… You’re good at that…”

He swallowed again, mostly for affect and partially to stifle the chuckle that threatened to burst forth. Laughing wouldn’t be a good idea right now, would it?

God, he liked this. He liked this a lot. The noises Simon was making were reason enough, but the fingers knotted in his hair and tugging gently and the spreading blackness on Simon’s glowing skin definitely helped. Something about seeing his black spread over Simon’s (now totally red) skin made him feel so satisfied. So… Dominant.

“ _Jävla helvete,_ David- David!” A soft whimper. “I’m - I’m getting close, please-” Another, choked off by a moan, “Please don’t stop!”

He pulled off with a pop, stroking him swiftly, twisting his hand sharply at the head. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not stopping.” He lapped up the precum leaking from the slit, “Gonna make you cum.”

He whined. “ _Jävla helvete_ … _Snälla, snälla_ …”

He only had a very basic understanding of Swedish, but he knew what that meant. It made his lips pull up into a smirk. “Your wish is my command.”

His hand moved out of the way, lips closing over the head again. When he went down this time, his nose touched skin. The head (and about an inch or so after it) sat snugly in his throat. He swallowed around it, hummed because “wow that feels weird”, and slowly lifted his head, sucking a little less than gently. His cheeks hollowed. His eyes fell closed.

He just bobbed his head and allowed himself to enjoy the noises spilling out of Simon’s mouth. They were _beautiful_. And they were all for him.

It dawned on him that giving a guy a blowjob while he’s asleep and therefore can’t consent was pretty fucked up, but he shoved his morals aside. Simon wanted it - didn’t he? He would have pushed him away if he didn’t.

Totally.

Instead he’d decided to knot his fingers in his hair and tug gently and moan his name like that and…

Holy shit.

“ _Fan_ … David, I’m gonna…” He gave an almost frantic series of tugs to David’s hair.

David, for the most part, ignored them. He growled (funny, he didn’t know humans could growl), low and predatory, and that apparently did it for Simon. He came with a shudder and a choked moan, spilling down David’s all too willing throat.

Sure, it was uncomfortable and he had to fight the urge to choke, but he was fairly sure it felt better that way. Felt better to cum inside of something.

He wouldn’t know, he was touch starved and it had been a _long_ time since he’d gotten off with anything but his own hand.

High school, he thought. Junior year of high school.

Sad.

He pulled off, swallowing a few times due to the sticky feeling in his throat. When he opened his eyes we was delighted to see the limp member before him (and the surrounding area, plus where he’d gripped the other’s right hip) stained black from his touch. It almost made him grin. Almost. Instead he bit his lip and looked up to Simon. He had to make sure he was okay. That he wasn’t angry.

Trying to be a better person was hard when your brain worked the way David’s did, with all this possessiveness and obsession with transferring his color to Simon, but he still tried. And tried. Wasn’t his fault that black and gold worked well together, or that it looked so appealing when he’d traced black swirls all over Simon’s golden chest.

Simon, thankfully, didn’t seem angry. He seemed more… In awe? Something like that. He was staring at David wide-eyed, like man seeing the sky for the first time.

“Holy shit.” He said, after a moment.

David laughed. “Good?” He asked when he’d recovered.

Simon was gold again, now, but there were still traces of the red from earlier. He was cute like that. “Yeah. Really good. I…” He trailed, cheeks flaring rose gold. “I’ve actually never gotten a blowjob before but I still think you’re better at it than anybody else could be.”

“I’ve actually never given a blowjob before.” David grinned at him and resettled himself in his original place on the bed, next to Simon and on his back. “Glad I’m good at it though.”

He picked up the journal and searched for the pen for a moment. When he’d retrieved both and braced the journal on his leg (as always), he had to pause to stare at his fingers.

“Something wrong?” Simon actually sounding worried about him was something he was still trying to get used to, on the rare occasions it happened.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” He smiled. “I just… Your glow rubbed off on me.” He flexed his fingers and examined them. “I didn’t know it worked like that. I thought I just stained your skin black for a while when I touched you. But no.”

“My glow…? You mean you’re still having the same hallucination?” It was incredulous, but relieved.

“Yeah. Always the same one with you. It’s comforting, really. It changed color, though, for a while. Just tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Usually you’re gold. Tonight you turned red. Right now you’re like a rose gold.” He flexed his fingers again, smile widening. “Where I was holding your hip,” He traced the fingers and pieces of his palm that had touched him, “I glow red.”

He then choked on a laugh. “Oh, god, I bet my mouth and throat look like a fucking furnace!”

Simon groaned.

_It’s nice, I guess, to glow your colors._

“What are you writing?”

“Nothing important. You should probably go back to sleep.”

 _It makes me think there’s a chance at… I dunno. At_ **_us_ ** _, if you catch my drift._

“You need to sleep too,” Simon pointed out disapprovingly, though he did busy himself with pulling his pants back up and trying to get comfortable.

 _I really hope there is, but I don’t want to get my hopes up_ **_too_ ** _high. We both know what will happen if I dare to hope for it too much._

“I will. Soon as I finish writing.”

_It won’t happen, then. So I’ll just let myself hope a little bit._

“If it’s not important, can’t you finish it in the morning?”

_God, you’re silly._

“Won’t be the same, then.”

_I think I love you, Simon._

“You fucking _goob_.”

A chuckle. “Yep. Sleep.”

_I just wish I had the balls to tell you._

“Fine.”

_But it’s fine. I’ll survive - having you here is enough. And maybe one day I’ll figure all this shit out and I won’t be an addict anymore and I can tell you for sure how I feel. Not just ‘I think...’ or ‘Maybe I…’_

_Lord knows you hate it when things aren’t definite._

Several hours later, after David had laid down and fallen asleep, he woke with a realization and scribbled , _… Fuck._ _I don’t_ ** _think_** _I love you, Simon. I do. I really, really do._

He dropped the journal into his bedside drawer, where it was meant to be, plopped the pen onto the tabletop, rolled back over, and fell back asleep, snuggled up as close as he dared to get to Simon.

All was well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that little "happy ending".  
> Enjoy!

All was not well.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Everything was actually pretty good.

Except for the fact that Simon was currently reading his journal.

Usually, that was no big deal. No big deal at all. In fact, it was commonplace. They both read the other’s journal, mostly to try and get to know each other better without having to do too much talking. From David’s experience, Simon’s journal read more like a book and his own read much more like a rather fractured and choppy stream of consciousness. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, Simon even got out of reading it, aside from a laugh here and there.

That didn’t matter, right now. Because right now Simon was reading his journal and he’d only just remembered a particular entry that he had wanted to keep a secret. Had wanted to keep Simon away from.

Sure, snatching the book away was an option, but it was entirely out of the question. That would arouse suspicions. And trying to distract him was an option, too, but he couldn’t think of anything.

He was stuck.

He was stuck and he was _fucked_. So fucked.

Thankfully, Simon eventually noticed him staring and sat it down, dog-earring the page he was on. “Something wrong, David?”

David blinked at him, then, before he could stop himself, nodded. “Yeah, actually. There’s something in there I’d really rather you didn’t read.”

Simon’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t question it as he picked up the journal and held it out to him. “Rip it out, then.”

He hesitated for a second, because he’d been expecting a question. Or, rather, a lot of questions. Awkward questions. But he got over it quickly and accepted the leatherbound bane of his existence. Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration.

Bane of his day, then.

He leafed through it, sighing in relief when he realized Simon hadn’t yet reached the entry he’d been worried about. He proceeded to do exactly as Simon had suggested, careful to avoid tearing any words. When he handed the little thing back to Simon, he had four jagged-edged pages clutched in his right hand.

He folded them up, under Simon’s watchful eye, and stuffed them unceremoniously into his jacket pocket.

That night, they would be transferred to the drawer where he usually kept the journal. In the back, under his pills and stuck in between the edge drawer’s bottom and its side. Left there to be forgotten once more.

* * *

It was a joyous day for both of them when Simon finally regained full (or, well, _nearly_ full) use of his legs. Sure, he had to hobble around with a walker (yes, _that_ kind of walker) for about a week afterwards, but he could walk and that was enough for him. When he proved he could walk, for the most part, without the use of the walker, they gave him a cane and insisted he use it if either of his legs hurt him or gave him trouble.

He wasn’t allowed to leave the doctor’s office until he actually verbally agreed, which left David waiting for nearly an hour outside. He was understandably miffed by the wait, but he chose not to mention it or take it out on Simon.

Trying to be a better person and all that.

Still, Simon had realized he was irritated even though he’d tried not to be obvious about it.

Really, after living with Simon and sharing a bed with him for nearly a year, he should have expected the Swede to have picked up on the subtle cues toward his mood. He could, himself, tell you if Simon was upset just by checking to see if he was drumming his fingers on his leg or chewing on the tip of a pen.

(For the record, both meant he was in a fairly good mood, but the drumming meant he was getting anxious and the chewing meant he was getting irritated or had major writer’s block).

Whatever. The point was that Simon realized he was irritated, and when they arrived home he’d pushed David into his armchair, muttered something about “returning the favor”, and proceeded to give David his first blowjob since high school. David thought he’d done pretty well about lasting longer than 30 seconds, considering his touch-starved nature and the fact that he hadn’t been pleasured by anyone but himself since he was 17.

Not that it took him much longer than that, really, but he did manage not to blow immediately.

“Fuck, f-fuck, Simon…”

He’d found himself using the word ‘fuck’ a lot, lately, where Simon was involved.

The other only hummed and damned if he didn’t at least _try_ to warn him before he spilled down his throat. Simon choked slightly, and David immediately felt terrible, but the other remained where he was for a moment or two before finally pulling off for air and swallowing thickly.

“That was… That felt weird. Was it good for you, though?”

“Well, I mean…” David trailed, reaching down to wipe some spit off Simon’s chin. “I came. Hard. So…”

Simon seemed pleased enough with that answer. He slowly pushed himself back onto his feet, shot David a grin, and hobbled into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out. David remained in the chair, pants around his knees, until Simon returned. Honestly, he’d forgotten the need to pull his pants back up until Simon snorted at him.

His cheeks heated. “Shut it. I was trying to process what just happened.”

“That good?” Simon teased, surprisingly good-natured for a guy who’d been snapping and practically hissing at him just this morning.

Maybe the whole having full use of his legs for good thing had something to do with that.

“Yeah.” David replied, unabashed despite the flush that had popped up beforehand. “Yeah it was. Unexpected, too.”

Simon gave him a look that was uncharacteristically soft around the edges, with a gentle smile to match. There was a faint red tint to his cheeks, and the ever so slight glow that he still carried around even when David was on a fairly measly dose of the pills (as he was now) had turned that pretty rose gold color. David couldn’t help smiling back.

* * *

Simon usually didn’t bother going through drawers to find something he was looking for - chances were it wouldn’t be there anyway, and it was no use.

Today, however, it was rather important that he do so. Seemed David was in a bad way without his pills at the moment. Sure, he’d been on an extremely low dosage anyway (about two pills, which was nothing in comparison to the whole bottles he’d consumed at one time), but he hadn’t taken that dose at all in _days_ , and he was getting very testy. He was acting not too unlike a wounded animal, Simon thought, curled in on himself in the living room and lashing out any time he tried to help. Obviously he needed the pills more than he let on, and his daily two doses going untaken for the past week or so amounted to him being in full withdrawal. Not pleasant, from Simon’s experience of being in even a mild painkiller withdrawal.

He’d have to give him a slightly larger dose than he was supposed to have in order to get the cravings to cease a bit. After that he should be able to get him back on his normal dose and continue the advised decrease from there.

He didn’t know what had gotten into David that would make him stop taking them altogether when he knew the consequences wouldn’t be pretty.

“ _Jävla helvete_ \- Where the fuck are they?” He let loose a few more curses as he hobbled around the upstairs, checking in every little hiding place he knew David’s home had.

He could usually walk just fine, after months of doing it without aid, but stress tended to make his legs a bit stiff. He growled. Damn David and his stupid decisions. Damn him, damn him, _damn_ him.

He threw open the door to their room and rifled through their closet, their dresser, and his own bedside table. Nothing, there, so that left David’s bedside table. Simon was hesitant to open it - this was an invasion of privacy on a whole new level. Sure, sometimes he opened it to retrieve the other’s journal, but the journal was always in plain sight. Always at the very front of the drawer with no need to search.

Looking for pills meant rooting around in the draw until he found them.

He took a deep breath, braced himself, and opened the drawer. There was a promising sound vaguely reminiscent of rattling pills in a bottle. His teeth worried at his bottom lip while he carefully moved this or that out of the way until I found the bottle at the very back, laying prone on a small pile of folded paper. The pile had clearly seen better days - hastily folded and shoved back there never to be seen again. The edges were wearing, going soft and rounded. He wondered how many times they’d been brushed against the sides of the drawer.

Belatedly, he remembered that the messy pile of papers was the entry in David’s journal that he hadn’t wanted him to read.

He felt bad for the whole two seconds it took him to remove them from the drawer and pocket them. And then he kept feeling bad, but slightly satisfied - he would get to read something that was obviously deeply personal. He snagged the pills as well, heading back downstairs after he slid the drawer shut.

It took a bit of effort, but with four pills in hand and promises of a back rub, if he wanted, he managed to get David to uncurl. A little more bargaining convinced him to take the pills. And the gentle voice and soft touches seemed to work fairly well in getting him to comply peacefully and without any snarky comments.

Or any violence.

Simon was still favoring his left arm a bit, today, after David actually nearly wrenched his right one out of its socket the day before.

He couldn’t blame him though - it wasn’t like David could really control how violent he felt at the moment. Simon, again, was well aware of what it was like to get off of something as potent as a painkiller. He could only imagine how much worse it would be for David considering how strong and how fucked up his pills were.

He was calmly working out some kinks in David’s shoulders, an hour and a half later, when David broke the silence that had pervaded over them.

“I wanted to get sober. Completely.” He muttered.

“Cold turkey isn’t the way to do it.” Simon stayed as calm as he could. David might still be feeling a little less than nice.

“I thought it would be okay since it was such a low dose.”

“I know.”

David seemed to relax a bit, leaning back against him and effectively stopping Simon from being able to rub his shoulders. Instead, Simon wrapped his arms around David’s middle (with some trepidation - he didn’t want to overstep). David gave him a pleased hum in response, resting his head against his shoulder.

With his back against the couch cushions, legs on either side of David, and arms wrapped snugly around his middle, Simon could almost trick himself into believing they were a couple. He knew they weren’t. And he wouldn’t push the matter with David, especially not right now. But that didn’t stop him from being insanely comfortable despite (or perhaps because of) David’s weight against his chest.

“I wanted to get sober for you.” David eventually said, one hand over the top of one of Simon’s, the other tracing little patterns into Simon’s other hand. He seemed almost scared to say it. His voice was shaking, and he’d had several false starts.

“For me?” Simon asked, still calm, still gentle. It wasn’t as difficult as he expected it to be.

David nodded. “Yeah. For you.”

“That’s sweet.” Simon informed him, trying not to let on how excited that made him. Maybe David didn’t mean it in the way he thought.

David hummed.

When David inevitably fell asleep against him, Simon couldn’t help pressing a kiss to his temple as he slowly and carefully moved him into a more comfortable position. He stayed at his side for a long moment, running his fingers through his hair. He found himself humming quietly, giving David a soft look that he didn’t really want to acknowledge he was giving him.

Eventually, the novelty wore off and he stood, gripping the wadded up papers in his back pocket and retiring to the kitchen to read them.

* * *

Dread didn’t even begin to cover the extent of the feeling coursing through David right at that moment.

He had woken when Simon removed him from his lap, but contented himself with the gentle kiss he’d been given and the soft stroking of his hair. But when he opened his eyes, when Simon got up, he saw them. The papers. The ones he’d long since meant to burn.

And he knew that Simon would read them, if the way he was holding onto them was any indication.

Should he stop him? Should he make it known just how much he didn’t want Simon to read them?

Chances were that Simon wanted to read them just because he didn’t want him too, so that wasn’t likely to do many favors for him. But he was frozen still with fear, now, watching the kitchen doorway like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and terrified. What would Simon do when he got to the end? What would he say?

Would he leave?

Would he insult him?

Sure, he’d allowed some nearly romantic touches just now, even kissed his head, but maybe Simon had seen it in a purely platonic light. Lord knew David didn’t. But Simon and David were very different people and he didn’t think it too incredibly likely that Simon saw it the same way he did. He could have just been following his instincts and being nice. Or just being nice in general.

Simon had once mentioned that back rubs and some cuddles were to die for when he was going through a withdrawal.

David was fairly certain that they’d only been awarded to him because Simon knew they would help, and for no other reason.

It made him kind of sad.

He forced himself to close his eyes again when he saw movement in the kitchen. His heart was beating right out of his chest, breathing well on its way to becoming heavy and noticeable.

“David.” Simon said softly, laying a hand gently on his chest. He gave him plenty of time to open his eyes again.

After a few seconds, he did so, blinking up at the other man. Simon gave a weak looking smile, quietly straddling David’s waist and resting their foreheads together. David’s pulse quickened a bit more, breathing becoming somewhat ragged. Simon shushed him, the hand that wasn’t bracing him on his chest coming up to stroke his cheek.

It was quiet.

David was beginning to think Simon had just wanted a cuddle, hadn’t read the papers yet, when Simon gave a light sigh.

“You still feel that way, David? Or have you changed your mind since you wrote it?”

There was no accusations, no anger or disgust. That was a good sign, David thought. Or maybe it would be if Simon didn’t look so… Sad.

He made to nod before deciding against it and letting out a rather hoarse, “Yeah, I still feel that way.” He coughed and averted his gaze, not moving his head, “I know. I’m stupid.”

“No.” Simon said immediately. “You’re not stupid. But you’re _sure_ that’s how you feel about me?”

When David moved his eyes back to him, Simon’s expression was hard. Determined. Almost annoyed.

He swallowed hard. “Absolutely.” He croaked.

He was beginning to completely lose his nerve. He was vulnerable to Simon, right now. Simon knew how he felt but he had no clue how Simon felt. It was terrifying - and maybe somewhat thrilling, if he could get past the fear.

He was expecting to be hit, insulted, yelled at, _anything_. But instead of any of the possibilities he considered, Simon rubbed their noses together. It was sweet, gentle - an eskimo kiss. Did that mean…?

“Good.” Simon murmured. “This would have been really awkward if you said no.”

David didn’t get a chance to question what “this” was.

Because, as it turned out, “this” was Simon’s lips pressed against his. A hint of teeth, the faint taste of the sandwich Simon had had for lunch, and a brush of tongue. Simon’s hips twitched against his slightly, clearly restrained. It brought a soft whine from Simon’s throat as he pulled back a bit, face flushing brightly.

“Sorry.” He muttered, “I didn’t mean to try and make it sexual.”

David chuckled. He couldn’t help it. He noticed Simon frown at him, and could only smile back. “You think I really mind if you wanna turn this sexual?” He quirked a brow. “I mean… I don’t think anything could make me hornier than knowing you actually feel close to the same way I do about you _and_ that you’re obviously horny.”

Simon’s cheeks somehow turned even redder. “For the record… I love you too.” There was a hint of mischief in his voice, despite how completely scandalized he looked.

David had to bit his lip. “You’re just _trying_ to make me horny, aren’t you?”

A sheepish smile was Simon’s only reply.

“Well. I’m all for get-together sex if you want it.” David put his hands on Simon’s hips to hold them in place, rolling his up to meet them.

Simon’s whole body quivered.

Oh. His glow was back. And it was _red_. Their colors were mingling between them, a dark crimson glow occupying the place where their hips met.

He rolled his hips up again, getting the same reaction. Simon’s hand dropped to his shoulder, the other inching up his chest to the previously uninhabited shoulder. Another roll of his hips had Simon clutching onto him, gasping softly. And _God_ if it wasn’t completely intoxicating to see and hear Simon like this.

“Mm… We should move this upstairs.” Simon muttered weakly.

“You really want me to stop already?” David teased, rolling his hips again.

Simon squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, no, no, don’t you dare…”

“Then we’re not going upstairs.”

The matter-of-fact way he said it usually would have made Simon scoff, but right now he seemed content with it.

A few more rolls of his hips. Nope - couldn’t take that anymore. It wasn’t enough. He undid Simon’s pants and removed his already fully hard length from its confines with an airy chuckle before doing the same to his own. Simon swatted him weakly, but didn’t really protest the turn things were taking.

David ran his hand over the heads of their cocks, holding them together with his other hand for the time being. When he slid his hand down onto their shafts, he let his other hand move back to Simon’s hip.

Simon was making the cutest noises while David stroked the two of them, whining and whimpering and giving soft encouragement. Soon enough his vocabulary narrowed itself down to “yes” and David’s name. Had David been speaking, he was sure his own would have done almost the very same thing.

Simon came first, to David’s surprise, spilling between them with a soft cry. His hands clenched on David’s shoulders, body quivering. David just chuckled shakily. After a few more strokes of them both he came as well, spurred on moreso by the whimpers coming out of Simon’s mouth than his own hand.

“... That was…” Simon moved his head to David’s shoulder, burying his face in his neck. “That was really nice.”

“Yeah… You done?”

“For now.” Simon nodded with a weak chuckle. “Maybe here in a bit we can get to the actual sex part, if you want.”

“I’m up for it if you are.” David kissed the side of Simon’s head. “But maybe first we should get cleaned up?”

Simon hummed in agreement.

Neither of them moved to get up, regardless. In fact, Simon relaxed against him further and adjusted himself to wrap his arms around David’s lower back.

All was _definitely_ well.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Yeah.  
> Thanks again for reading.  
> 


End file.
